


Still I Must Obey, Still I Must Invite

by siddals



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siddals/pseuds/siddals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you think they blame me, Robb?”<br/>“They shouldn’t. If there’s been any fault, it’s mine.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still I Must Obey, Still I Must Invite

  
“You don’t think he’ll mind having me there?” She is wearing only her shift, watching him undress from the other end of the room. He seems a different person when wearing his king’s clothes, hard, solid, a Northman (she has shaved him for the wedding, holding the blade steady in long careful fingers and it seems she is taking years off his face, making him again into a boy).  
   


“He probably will. But he can mind all he likes.”

  


“Me and my troublesome cunt.” She laughs. She never used to use words like this—worried about being a lady, worried about manners, worried about making up for doubtful blood and no money.

  


“She is very troublesome,” Robb says, his eyes flicking down to her legs.

  


There is a moment. She smiles and it fades a bit.

  


“Do you think they blame me, Robb?”

  


“They shouldn’t. If there’s been any fault, it’s mine.”

  


“But do you think they do?”

  


He kisses her and the next time he speaks, he is pushing open her legs and asking can I, his mouth on her thigh, working up—

  


-

  


Lady Catelyn is cold as before. It is not a surprise. They are reaching a kind of agreement, though, a consensus (Jeyne wonders if she, too, blames her).

  


“He shouldn’t have taken you, your Grace,” she says in her low half-Northern voice, the Grace coming as an unwilling addendum.

  


Winter’s wife. Will I be as cold as her, one day?

  


“You know how stubborn Robb is, my lady.”

  


“I do.”

  


-

  


It is not much of a castle, she thinks, worse than the Crag, even. Lord Frey bids them both before the throne and Robb makes his apologies and she does as well, soft, well-behaved—

  


“So you’re the one he chose, then. It’s good to have a look on you.” He looks her over, lingers on her breasts and hips. “Do you think you’re fairer than my girls, then?”

  


“I do not, my lord.”

  


Roslin Frey is brought forward, a pale white silhouette who looks at her and shakes. Jeyne smiles a little, comforting (two weeks ago I was the one trembling) and thinks of girls and castles and leaving.

  


-

  


Their bedchamber is not comfortable.

  


“Best they could do, I suppose.”

  


“We’ll serve,” she says. It is cold and her shift is thin and she shivers a little.

  


He sits at the end of the bed, his shirt off and she moves over, traces his neck with her lips—

  


“I won’t let them hurt you,” he says, low, determined.

  


“I know you won’t,” she says.

  


“I mean it. Perhaps—perhaps I shouldn’t have brought you. I won’t let them hurt you.”

  


She turns his head slightly, so that he is facing her.

  


“I know,” she says.

  


-

  


She wears her least fine gown to the wedding. She does not want to look better than Roslin Frey.

  


Robb dances with the Frey girls and is apologetic and does not take her hand.

  


She pities Roslin, terrified as they tear at her clothes. I was spared that.

  


She realizes as they shut the doors that the song is familiar.

  


-

  


She sees the axe splitting him and hears a scream and realizes it is her and later, when she is bleeding, she does not know whose body is whose and then there is nothing.

 


End file.
